The King that can't fall
by Archeuz
Summary: None may challenge the Lich King. That is what he said. What happens when Arthas doesn't fall as easily as they all thought? First Story!
1. Chapter 1

Hey all, this is my first try at fanfiction, so I hope you all like it. Comments are most welcome!

Cold...That is what he felt, a feeling that he hadn't known for year. At least he thinks it was only years, it could've been decades, even centuries. Darkness... That is what he felt, it's funny; he thought, what gets taken for granted. Yelling, shouting, cheering and crying, they echo around him, yet muffled, like he was in a bubble. When all of a sudden the 'bubble' popped. His green, bloodshot eyes flew open a wispy blue mist gently dissipated, he begins to make out the words being said around him. "The Lich King is defeated!" came a gruff voice, "No longer shall his tyranny threaten our existence!". Who is this 'Lich King' he wondered. "Frostmourne lies shattered, their souls are free. Now at last they can rest in peace". "Frostmourne..." he murmured, "...hungers?" he finished with a confused thought, what was Frostmourne and why did it hunger?

They were yelling. They were shouting. They were cheering, and they were crying. The Lich King was finally defeated, lying in a pool of his own blood on his light-forsaken throne, his fabled sword shattered over the frozen battlefield. Tirion Fordring, wielder of the Ashbringer, was looking out over the frozen wastes of Icecrown from atop the Citadel, watching the Argent Crusade root out any Scourge hiding in the snow and ice. A lone paladin separated himself, from the group of adventures that took down the Lich King, and approached the fallen king, noting all the wounds suffered on his body; arrows, burns, poisons, gashes, slashes and stabs, it was surprising that he could even be recognised. As he got near he heard something, like a whisper, "Frostmourne...hungers?". Before he can warn the others that the Lich King wasn't dead, he felt a shattered blade pierce into his chest, directly into his heart. Blood dripping from the multiple wounds covering his body Arthas managed to stand up, tearing Frostmourne from the paladins chest, he yells "Fools! You think the Scourge defeated so easily?!" Pointing the his shattered sword to the sky, a deafening roar shakes the very foundations of the Citadel, chunks of ice splintering off the plateau that everyone was standing on.

Galakrond roared. 'How?' he wondered, he knew he was dead. But in his mind he only knew one thing; to serve. The giant protodrake landed in the Icecrown wastes among the countless crusaders that were eradicating the Scourge, in the blink of an eye he had frozen near all of them. Tiron's distraught yell gave way to the maniacal laughter from Arthas. The remaining champions with Tirion turned on Arthas, raising Ashbringer Tirion charged. Preparing to smite Arthas, Tirion ruthlessly swung at him. The blow however didn't land, the stress of the last year in the icy winds of Northrend had taken a toll on the aging paladin, Arthas deflected the blow with Frostmourne's shattered edge. Before the champions could finish the fallen king, Arthas ran and dived off the edge of the Frozen Throne. As they ran to the edge to see his fate, another roar made the very ice they stood on crack and splinter. Galakrond came soaring from the frozen wastes right up the edge of the citadel, the Lich King perched upon his giant skull, Frostmourne still in his icy grip.

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

Here is another chapter, hope everyone likes it!

When the Lich King fell she couldn't watch, watch them prance around his body celebrating. It sickened her how they cheered about killing Arthas, her Prince, her Love! So when he fell she conjured up a portal and headed back to the floating city of Dalaran, straight to her room where she broke down in tears. "Why couldn't I stop you? Why didn't you listen to me?" she cried into her pillows. Jaina, daughter of the decorated Admiral Daelin Proudmoore, had felt the thread of a connection she had always had to Arthas snap when the so-called 'champions' slew her Prince, she felt empty now, more alone in a city full of people than ever before. A terrifying scream tore itself from her lungs, the glass of her brightly lit window shattering, an icy torrent erupting through the shattered frame out into the air. Her eyes glowing with uncontrolled power, Jaina ported out of Dalaran, leaving the frozen room behind.

"Jaina...Oh my dearest little mage" a voice whispered into her mind. Jaina opened her eyes, she was standing on a icy peak near Dalaran, gazing over the city she hears it again, a cool, yet familiar voice in her mind. "Yes, watch it...The thorn in my side, the pathetic Magi that thought that a city could stand my might", unable to tear her gaze away from Dalaran, she feels more than hears the giant roar that shook the peak she stood upon. Out of the darkened sky, Galakrond plummets towards the floating city, upon his head Arthas still stands, he turns his head, their eyes lock onto each other for a brief fragile moment. "He's...Alive?" she mumbles to herself. Then it hits her, "He's Alive!" she cries.

A smile plays across his bloodied face, he knew her, he felt the raw emotional magic she wielded, it was what drew him towards the City of Spellcasters. "My mage" he teased, "I have a surprise for you". Kneeling down, Arthas placed a palm on Galakrond's forehead, the frosty blight covering his skeletal form suddenly grew tenfold. Galakrond roared, he knew what his target was, he relished the opportunity to cause this chaos, and so he dived, right at Dalaran, his master poised and ready. Arthas stood up, announcing in a voice that carried all over Northrend, "Glory to the Scourge! Let this pitiful excuse for a city serve as an example to those who challenge me!". And so Arthas laughed, a dark, crackling laugh of a madman. A laugh that made all who heard it get a chill, creeping down their spine, stealing their souls.


End file.
